Chapter 29
Donatello
A reception.
For a married couple who were supposed to be happy as could be.
There was a significant amount of love in the air, but it had nothing to do with Emmeline and myself. Well, maybe I was exaggerating. I adored the woman, every little thing about her.
More than ever now that I’d lived with her on and off for a week. Granted, I hadn’t moved in, merely taken up space as her protector. Yet I’d been so close that I’d caught sight of the real woman.
Including the woman who adored soft PJs to sleep in, not fancy lingerie. She also had a stuffed tiger that she kept by her bed, refusing to explain to me as to why she had the creature.
And I adored the way she brushed her teeth, so methodical that I’d stood in the doorway twice just watching her. Until she’d shooed me out like I was a stalker instead of her husband.
Husband. I was her husband.
Damn it.
I had the ring and the license to prove it.
Just not the wife, other than from afar. And damn if she wasn’t more beautiful tonight than I’d ever seen her.
Yes, she was darting looks in my direction, keeping track of where I was and she was doing a good job of pretending that she was happy. But she wasn’t. She was miserable and that ate me alive. Damn it.
“She doesn’t want to be married,” I said to no one because no one was standing in proximity.
Only they were.
Jaxon flanked my side and I immediately bristled.
“What do you want?” I snarled before throwing back the last of my drink. What would cure my anger was taking him outside the house and finishing what had been started a week before.
“I thought you might like some advice on my sister.”
Laughing, I even doubled over as if he’d just said the funniest thing in the world. “Right. From you, the man who wanted to kill me for daring to touch her.”
I was surprised his sigh was heavy. “About that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like such an asshole.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. I would never hurt Emmeline. Don’t you know that?”
When Jaxon walked away, I thought that was the end of the conversation. Typical Prince family member. But he returned a few seconds later with a bottle of whiskey, filling both our glasses. “Of course I know you wouldn’t hurt Emmeline.”
“Then why fuck with me? Why treat me like I’m not good enough to be with your sister?”
“Do you want to know the truth?” He placed the bottle on the table, keeping it close.
“Yeah, I want to know the truth, for fuck’s sake. We’ve been friends long enough, I think I deserve to know.”
“Jealousy.” He took a swig after making the statement.
“What?”
Nodding, he wiped his mouth. “Yep. It took Anastasia forcing me to face my fears to realize I was terrified our friendship would end.”
“Ah, shit, man. We might be married but I assure you that your sister is very independent. Besides, I work for you. Remember?”
“Yes, but work and recreational time are different.”
“When you married Anastasia, did it change you enjoying some free time?”
His grin was far too telling. “Yep. And I love it.”
At least I could chuckle. “Well, I don’t think she wants to remain married, but being her husband doesn’t mean I need to choose between the two of you.”
“Good to hear. Then you need to listen to my advice.”
“What the fuck. Everything else I’ve tried I’ve failed at. I’m not sure she loves me.”
“Do you want to know how I know without a doubt she adores everything about you?”
I rubbed the scruff on my face I’d refused to shave. “Fine. How?”
“She asked Alexander to call in a favor with the Five Families to hunt down the people responsible for the murder of your parents.”
“What?”
The twinkle in his eye was followed by a quick nod. “See? Alexander promised her he’d help make that happen. That’s all she wants.”
I studied her from where she was standing, admiring every little thing about her. “I had no idea.”
“Of course not. Don’t tell her I told you either. But listen to me. Here’s what you need to do with her.” He turned to face me, acting as if what he was about to tell me was very serious. He even lowered his voice. “You need to just take control.”
What did he just say? “What?”
“You heard me. My sister is used to getting everything she wants. People, especially men are pushovers. You’re the kind of guy who usually takes what he wants, but if what I’ve witnessed over the last year is remotely accurate as to your relationship, then bor-ring.”
“Well, fuck you.”
“I’m serious. You’re being too nice to her. Just tell her that she is your wife and that’s it. Period. The end. Then take control. Roughly. Without her being able to say a damn thing.”
I turned my head, finding her across the room. She was still looking to see if I was in the same place. “You think so?”
“Look at her. She’s practically begging you to.”
“We’re at a party.”
“So what? It’s your party,” he reminded me. “If you love her, that’s the way she needs to be told.”
I stared down into my drink for a few seconds, contemplating what he’d just suggested. “You know what? You’re right. I’m an idiot.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“Ah, fuck you. But thanks for knocking some sense into me.”
“That’s what best friends are for.”
With an evil grin on my face that was reflected in the window, I thumped the glass on the table beside the bottle. Who needed alcohol when I could have passion with a woman who looked like my wife?
I pushed my way through the crowd of people, taking her by the hand. When she tried to pull away, I refused to allow her, pushing her against the wall when we were outside in the hallway.
“What are you doing?” Her demanding tone had returned.
“Me? Whatever I want.” I pinched her chin with two fingers, keeping her eyes locked onto mine.
“We’re at a party. Let me go.”
“That’s not going to happen, sweetheart, and do you want to know why?” I’d be damned if her eyes didn’t light up with fire.
“Why?”
And I did so love when her voice was little more than a purr. “Because you’re my wife and as your husband, I take what I want. That’s the way it’s going to be.” With that, I crushed my lips over hers.
With the full weight of my body pinning hers to the wall, I cupped her face, enjoying the way she writhed under me. Actually trying to escape.
As if that was going to happen.
With my hand cupping her face, my fingers digging into her skin, I thrust my tongue past her hot soft lips. There was nothing sweeter than exploring her mouth, drinking from her sweet nectar.
She mewed in my hold, the strangled moan heard over the din of the jazz music. Perhaps her cries would draw attention, a guest attempting to intervene. To stop me. Let them dare try. I didn’t care.
Emmeline was my wife and as such, she was mine to enjoy and taste.
To fuck and feed.
And to keep locked away if necessary.
Her hands fisted my jacket, the push and pull exactly what I’d expected. The woman was a fighter, refusing to give in to any man.
Any circumstance.
And so, the kiss continued, hot and wet just like we both preferred.
The moans shifted to animalistic grunts, the push and pull to a desperate need for each other.
Soon, she was ripping at my clothes, undulating her body in a way reminding me of a wildcat.
I was so turned on my balls ached like a son of a bitch. There was no denying the chemistry we shared or the hunger that floated above everything else.
Often including common sense.
We no longer cared where we were or who could witness our sinful crimes. We were too far gone. Too much in need.
Too desperate.
When I knew we both couldn’t take it any longer, I tugged her backward with me, our steps awkward yet purposeful. The hallway was closed, the limited shimmering light barely illuminating where we were going. A room devoid of guests. That’s all that was necessary.
With seams of clothing being ripped, buttons flying off, we bounced from one wall to the other. The break in our explosive kiss brought laughter and a drag of just the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip.
Which drove me bat shit crazy.
I could no longer focus from the lust, even biting her lower lip until I was able to taste blood. That’s how carnivorous I was, a primal beast losing all sense of control.
The only rational thought in my mind other than shoving my dick inside her tight pussy was that Jaxon had been right in his assessment. This was exactly what she wanted.
And what she needed.
A dark space called our attention and once inside, she slapped at the wall making six attempts to find a light switch. The space was small enough that we shifted back and forth until we were able to close the door.
That’s the moment she pushed me away with such brutal force. I was pitched back against the shower, knocked against the glass door. Laughing, I stared her down as I righted myself.
We were now only a few inches from each other, but it seemed like a mile if not further. The stare down continued, building the anticipation. She laughed, rubbing her delicate fingers across her lips.
I chuckled, using the sleeve of my jacket to do the same.
There was no denying the cataclysm of our relationship.
“You asked Alexander to have the Five Families find my parents’ murderers.”
“Yes,” she said. “So what?”
“So why?”
“Because you deserve to know and they need to die for what they did.”
“You’re a brat.”
Her grin was raw and adorable. “Don’t forget it.”
Another five seconds passed and it was as if a timer went off. Boom. The clock was ticking.
We were all over each other, gasping for air as we ripped at clothes.
I slipped my hand under her dress, wrapping my fingers around the thin elastic of her thong. With a single snap of my wrist, I jerked her free of the limited confines. She didn’t need her lacy panties anyway.
After taking a few seconds of self-indulgence by pulling the damp material to my mouth and nose and inhaling, I shoved them into my pocket.